Long Fanciful Poems
Long Fanciful Poems. Below are the most popular long Fanciful by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fanciful poems by poem length and keyword.
No riches to be accumulated by me,
and no cathedrals to be built and penetrate
the vagrant clouds giving the resemblance
of a reachable Heaven so fuzzy,
because this mind is guided by faith...
and is not controlled by a limited furtherance!
I made big with God, not following the madness
which seeps into our imprudent soul,
and makes us see a false greatness...
forgetting that Man and God cannot be equal!
I've found no joy more thrilling and genuine
than that of our merciful and powerful God:
asking us to choose right and good,
and live without being inflicted by a single pain;
He opens our mind, fraught with danger, to awareness...
not to be obscured by a fiendish influence!
I made big with God, not being fanciful,
frivolous and inconsiderate of others;
offensive, hard-hearted and formidable ...
never incurring perils or losses!
No violent storm swept me aside,
no intruder attempted to cut short my invaluable life;
I was always shielded by a massive rock,
unable to pierce my body and cause me harm!
I made big with God, unaware that
He was always present in my thoughts
deeds and words...controlling every single emotion,
every small step down the path of redemption!
Growing up in the GOP, the
Shadow of Lincoln, among others was strong.
Yet as time rolled through, subtle but
Drastic change has occurred, both in the short & long.
It has morphed through a rear-view mirror,
Looking for its greatness and glory in the past.
While failing to work on any future,
Or any progress that might stand and last.
At the core, they're seen combating truth,
With enough lies that burden and inflame.
With the power and legal agility, to
Try and displace reality and delay the game.
Holding on to conspiracy as concrete footing,
Such that Q-anon and the satanic are real.
They attach to the fanciful by fear mongering,
With only repetition as a fraudulent seal.
So as they chase down the boogeyman and demonic,
Lo and behold, they tend to find a democratic face.
Where even 'RINO's are tracked down and hunted,
Becoming endangered in their once-safe place.
This pursuit has shown its vile nature,
As violence threatens those to dare realities view.
And I can only hope that justice will survive,
And the truth will provide the final clue.
I read other people's poetry and I wonder to myself,
Where do they conjure up their massive vocabulary?
The words I don't know, I write down; and I have quite a list.
Some of these English words, I know belong somewhere between here and Ireland, but maybe in another century, with Coleridge or Thoreau. But yet,
here we go. Betwixt, bemuse, besot, who writes like this?
I have looked up more fanciful, interestingly new words in a month than I knew existed, and I used to think I knew some words. Keep them coming, my Poetry Soup pen pals. I am fascinated, and learning a new vocabulary faster than I thought possible.
At faculty meetings people are asking, "What are you doing?" I'm looking up words, I tell them. Lots of eye rolling; these are teachers, and many, I am afraid, have not opened a book since college but you didn't hear it from me.
I'm a simple woman, not a snitch.
The Tears Bequeathed
Of frozen droplets’ ice water in his veins swamped his heart
little crystals of permafrost too rugged too woebegone to even
drown his open-ended sorrows in the tears bequeathed by the
outpouring void the downtrodden chute where his flute had once
Charmed her flow the lock of her hair the green amber gaze
now unbound in the bygone foreplay and symphony of dreams
‘Rose Perlemoen’ mother of pearls had left him a catcher in the dry
lost in transition suffocated by fanciful reverie teased in playful
enchantment pleased of seduction seized and then ceased in smothered
abandoned fanciful fantasy of infinite love of eternal longing
‘Carpus Momento’ spurned lover and seeker had tasted seedless
grapes of temptation once fulfilled twice refused ovules released
A crevasse had opened had wrenched snatched charging pound his
rhythm then closed over cascades of torrents in misty eyed drought
When blood reached his cheeks ichor resembled no virgin’s stream yet
an ocean of red escaped from jugular vessels as he lay on the ground
His final words drowned in tears torn apart written in ink from his heart
opened by her cunning freeze like icicle’ lingo to his child yet to be born
21st October 2016
Words Drowned In Tears Poetry Contest
My volatile mind wanders in fanciful cauldron of emptiness,
floats on the fairy flotilla in the sunburst cloud’s recess,
makes a fascinating painting of formless fantasy
on the synthetic canvas in the museum of memory.
The remains of rustic passion of sensual impression,
reflected from the mirror of childhood imagination,
entice me to take fantasy flight swirling in seamless sky,
where I follow entranced the trail of beguiled butterfly.
As the reverie buds blossom, I drift in its latticed wings,
flutter in the melody of illusion, whistling wind brings
from the flamboyance of the fleeting rainbow hue.
In mystic spectrum of silence I find the beauty of life anew.
In the sunrise sky emanate the colors of daydream,
my dismal mind soars to the realm of radiance to gleam,
where in halcyon horizon the aura of timeless bliss I see.
I then imagine I can fly in the magical air of ecstasy.
The flight takes me to childhood picturesque dreamland,
looped by sparkling river flowing like an ornate garland.
In childlike trance the mariner me sails paper boat happily,
that glides to the distant sea to dance on waves of fantasy.
The guide with his cheesy hat, and colorful umbrella
encourages us to: gather 'round.
His anecdotal spiel is by rote. His shtick is fact-slim
and slick, but it’s also my current gestalt as I am dragged
unwillingly along by his CliffsNotes speech.
What catches my wandering eye
is that one of those ruined effigies
is a fair facsimile of myself.
He (a god/king of some minor something),
looks mildly disgusted, as if
a bothersome fly had landed on his crumbling nose.
My world-weary face reflects perfectly
his sour mien.
At last, I am processed meekly
back onto the tour bus, where predictably,
my fellow passengers are already
peering forward into a new fancifully imagined past
from an equally fanciful present.
Experienced a third bigger earthquake recently but this poem I wrote for a smaller earthquake years ago)
My first trivial tremor experience had been in Southern Africa
And now this puny earthquake I felt in Tanzania.
I saw every thing waltz to and fro and lightly shake
Bottles turned ballerinas dancing slightly to the quake
I watched glass decors on the walls quiver and jolt
Scaredy me was half asleep, no wonder didn't bolt
I thought I was dreaming or imagining things
My bed and chairs converted into gentle swings.
All vials and vases
jiggled to dance a jig
The lil horrors over
So I cast humor's wig
Ah when began rattling, the knick knacks on my dresser
Was when it dawned upon me in horror
That this was really an early dawn tremor.
I phoned some friends but those early risers
Hadn't even noticed or felt those tremors
I bet they thought I was spreading false rumours
After all poets are stereotyped as fanciful philosophers.
My cell phone keypad became my panic button in a flurry
Of course I wanted all to be alerted, alarmed in worry
Nobody believed me until it was announced in our mosque
And every body was then called by muezzin to pray the signs prayers
Then every body knew the tremor was no hoax
Some patted me for being the first to notice this shaking of earthly layers
Of course I thanked God this was no major earthquake
I've heard in other places how terribly the earth can crack and shake
Who else but God could I owe my heartfelt gratitude
For this being my 2nd low power tremor in magnitude
As it measured low on the Richter scale
based on the seismic waves' amplitude
But the earth was shaken and I too was shaken
No pics of the shivering axis were taken
Todate runs down my spine such a shiver
On recalling how the mother earth did quiver
I have seen videos of earthquakes where the earth juggles things
like a salt shaker
May God protect us from such a waker and breaker
The offspring of a demonic creature and a mage
Attempting to stop doomsday predictions, judge:
In a dissent to paradise, the proper arm of doom
Such a young child is guided by his pastry loom.
Brought into the world from the hellish recess.
which he will twice reconsider and reassess!
a position of respect and honor in society.
He is emphatically worthy of godliness and piety!
Demons, skeletons, specters, and eidolons
Both holy and profane matters must be dealt on.
He is currently in office and is an honorable man.
shielded by the colossal force of his clan!
Both his wrap and cord might serve as storage.
to counteract his penchant for the dark judge.
not to recognize that they were unsuccessful.
He might instantly intend for the neck, dreadful!
Rasputin, Ogdru-Jahad, as well as Baba Yaga
It's a few of the evils he may face in this saga.
Alias of the fanciful hero Hellboy is Anung Rama,
who appeared across several eponymous enigmas.
Written: April 04, 2023
The Women of Hellboy Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Rain drizzling on the window pane
Sullen moments, filled with melancholy
Wishes glued to hopes of sunshine
Rays washing away the storm clouds,
The gray day – the tempestuous darkness
Nothing in life ever felt quite as dismal
As the overcast moments when I was left
To my own devices, my own pretenses
Inside the house, where nothing felt as pleasant
As the wonders, the wildness, of the outdoors
As gloom settled into my pores, releasing
Me from the melted boredom, the dullness
Inside, where I only had a tv, books, board
Games and, of course, those imaginary departures
From those homemade paper airplanes…
Who soared, eagerly, riotously – toward destinations
Unknown, into cities and towns where I felt
The racing of my pulse as my heart sped zealously
Reminding me that this was a journey, a freedom
Far freer than any other I had been on…
For this was the flight that would take me –
Into kingdoms, fantasies, imaginary places
Where I could build fictional metropolises
Fantastic castles – rich and amazing moments
That were colored in hues of fanciful inventions
From a mind who was irked by the dismal wet weather
PAPER AIRPLANES Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
August 12, 2022
Flimsy bubbles, of instant delight,
tickling senses in fanciful flight.
Sunlit shells encapsulate the air
into crystal balls beyond compare.
Glassy orbs that make children giggle;
as they wiggle, wobble, and jiggle.
Transparent globules, airy and bright;
reflect the sheen of sparkling sunlight.
Lightly popping with a ticklish splat,
they spray a mist, as if sunlight spat.
A flotilla of transparent spheres;
that playfully summon laughs and cheers.
Jewels in the world of make-believe,
that are impossible to retrieve.
For they float free, on the slightest breeze,
rising high above the tallest trees.